After She Fell
by AlaskaExists
Summary: From Kent's POV describing the events immediately after (and a few days after) the end of Before I Fall. Three Parts completed: ch1 After, ch2 First Day of School, ch3 The Funeral. Ch4 The Dream, chapter 5 will be the reception and posted soon.
1. After

**After **

I don't remember changing out of my rain-drenched clothes. I don't remember grabbing all the extra blankets down from the closets and handing them to Lindsey, Elody, and Ally who were huddled together on the floor. Pale and broken looking. I couldn't look at them, so I didn't.

I vaguely remember going into the kitchen and making hot chocolate. The good kind, homemade with milk, just like my mother taught me so many years ago. The motions feel mechanical and it when I pour the milk my body's shaking so bad that most of it spills all over the counter, splashes on the floor and soaks into my socks. I ignore it and repeat the process as many times as I need too until it's done. This seems to help. If I concentrate on something normal, something warm and comforting, something productive, then maybe everything will go back to normal too. When I grab four mugs down and pour the warm liquid into each one, using both hands in an awkward effort to keep them steady, I don't let myself dwell on the fact that I should be grabbing five.

I bring the hot chocolate to the girls, still shaking and huddled together under blankets, wearing oversized, mismatched clothes from whichever closet in the house. I sit the mugs down next to them, Elody and Ally both wrap their hands around the warm glasses, but Lindsey just stares blankly, like she can't even see what's in front of her. None of them take a sip.

I make a point of checking the fire, before I grab three blankets from the pile and wrap them around myself. I plop in front of the fireplace, sitting so my back is to the girls and I'm a good twenty feet away from them.

Once I sit down my body feels incredibly heavy, like my blood has turned to lead and is slowly settling, pulling at all my joints and muscles and bones. Weighing me down like I'm walking through quicksand. I feel my shoulders droop and I let my head fall forward. It's then that I realize how cold I still am, pinpricks of pain, like needles, are just starting to shoot through my hands and feet. My hair is still dripping and feels heavy with what I imagine are tiny ice crystals. I pull the blankets tighter around me, grasping my warm mug as I scoot a little closer to the fire. _First, concentrate on getting warm_ I tell myself, in a pathetic attempt to fight the inevitable.

And the someone screams.

I flinch so hard that most of the hot chocolate in the mug I'd been holding splashes onto the blankets. Up until that point, everyone has been relatively silent. The scream comes again and I turn my head toward the sound. It's Lindsey. She has her head tucked between her knees, with her arms loosely wrapped around her legs, her damp hair hanging down like blinds. She screams again and the horrible sound seems to echo through the house, bouncing through the empty rooms, piercing everything. It's then that I realize she's sobbing. Crying so hard that each sob sounds like a scream. Ally and Elody curl against her, before falling into themselves. Their voices seem to blend together until it sounds like the house itself is crying. The sounds sets every nerve in my body on edge, my muscles feel like they could snap with tension, and I can feel the hairs on the back of neck rising like hackles.

For a second, I feel like I should go to them. Like I should wrap my arms around them and try to give them some comfort, even if we all know that there's no comfort anyone can give. Not now. Maybe not ever. Somewhere in the back of my mind I think _hero_, and I forget how to breath for a second.

I can't get myself to move over to them. I can't even look at them. They're not my friends and even though we have this horrible moment in common, I don't feel like I can bridge the distance between us right now. Lindsey screams again or maybe it was someone else, I can't tell their voices apart. I almost want to tell them to shut up or to leave. But I don't. The house would seem to empty if I was here alone. I'm glad their parents let them stay since I can't decide if alone is what I want. But, I also can't listen to that sound. I push my mug aside, pull my knees up to my chest, bury my head against my legs, and push the heels of my hands as hard as I can against my ears. Desperate to block out grief that sounds too much like the static in my own head.

I tense my whole body, trying to lock myself together like a puzzle piece, in an attempt to stop the tremors racking my body from tearing me apart. Splitting me into thousands of tiny pieces that I'll never get back together again. Without thinking I let my eyes drift to the side, until I can just see the girls behind me in my peripheral vision. They're all huddle together, nearly on top of each other. Lindsey in the middle, still curled up, but grasping at Elody and Ally on either side of her, who have their arms wrapped around her, while holding onto each other. I've never felt more alone in my life.

I look back down, shutting my eyes tight as my stomach twist painfully and the lump in my throat threatens to choke me. Looking at them reminds me too much of Sam.

Just thinking her name breaks me.

The whole scene replays in my mind in fast forward. The rose from Sam at school. Our lips pressed and bodies pressed together in my car. Her cryptic messages about "time" and "saving." Following her when I noticed her slipping out of the party, into the rain and the woods with such a calm sense of purpose. And then...seeing her talking to Juliet. The bright white of headlights, bouncing off the rain, making the rain look like needles. Juliet throwing herself into the road. Sam lunging after her. Screeching of brakes and tires on wet pavement, before a dull _thunk_. Sam's body soaring through the air, arcing in a strangely graceful looking way, like a gymnast dismounting from the high bar. In that moment, I actually expected her to land on her feet, beautiful and alive.

But when time sped up again, she didn't land on her feet. She slammed into the pavement, with so much force I swear her body actually bounced. All I remember is screaming her name, running over to her, leaning over her as she lay there bleeding. Touching her, telling her it was going to be alright, even though her skin was already so, so cold. Her eyes were unfocused, but there was a calmness there. A calmness that was more terrifying to me than the blood soaking through her clothes and into the pavement. In that moment everything came together. She knew. Which meant that it didn't matter that the an ambulance was here and that at least five paramedics were surrounding her, trying to keep her alive. None of it mattered.

That's the point my mind shut down. I didn't fight when they pulled me from her, because I knew she was gone. My mind was too busy trying to figure out the how's and why's to process anything else. I remember a paramedic checking me over and cops asking me question that I must have answered good enough since they let me go without taking me to the hospital. I remember seeing Juliet shuffled into an ambulance, while someone yelled "It's all you're fault!" After that...nothing.

The feel of a hand on my back brings me back to the present, and I realize that the horrible screaming has stopped and my hands are wrapped around the back of my neck, holding my head down. My mind seems to suddenly register the fact that I can't breath and I realize I'm hyperventilating. Gasping for air, my lungs too strangled to expand. I can feel tears sliding down my cheeks like rainwater, but I barely notice them. I can't breathe.

I feel someone wrap their arms around me, but it's like I'm detached from my body. The sensation feel like a separate entity. One that can't touch me where I'm at right now. Someone whispers my name, so softly I almost think I imagine it, but the voice brings me back to myself a little more. It's Elody. I try to control my breathing.

Another set of arms goes around me, and then another, until I almost feel trapped. I finally manage to take a deep, shaky breath and release my arms from behind my head. The trapped feeling dissipates a little and I open my eyes. I'm not sure how much time has passed but the fire has burned down until it's almost just embers. It feels like hours and it feels like seconds. I can feel the girls arms around me, feel them shaking and hear the tiny whimpering sounds as they cry against me. Our worlds colliding because they're falling apart. I run my sleeve across my eyes, even though I know there's no point, since the tears don't stop. Right now I can't even feel the tears, this isn't even the release of anything bouncing around inside me. This is just shock.

As the girls lean against me, their thin bodies pressed against mine, my mind shifts to a kind of desperation. I desperately want to turn back time. To restart the day, go back to the this morning when I woke up and my only worry was trying to minimize the damage to the house during the party and whether or not Sam would show up. Then I start to wonder how things could have turned out differently if only I had known. What if I hadn't let Sam leave? What if I had pulled her into my room, kept her there, kissed her and held her so she couldn't walk out and didn't want to. What if she hadn't even come to the party at all? What if I didn't even have a party, but just convinced her to come over? After all, I only had the party in hopes that she would come. What if her friends, after noticing she was acting strangely, stopped her? What if I had gotten to her sooner?

The questions ricochet through my mind like bullets against metal walls. So many tiny threads woven together, lives and events intertwined, all connected that someone created this horrible picture that ended a young life. I want to tear them all apart, fiber by fiber until I find the thread that's Sam's life and stop it from being severed. I was supposed to be her hero. I _promised_ her that. I let her down in the worst way possible. I couldn't save her.

My mind blanks, apparently reaching it's limit for a short while, just as Lindsey unwraps herself from me. She crawls over to the pile of blankets and spreads them out on the floor, before laying down on top of them. Elody and Ally immediately follow her, silently moving away from me to curl up next to Lindsey on the floor. It's something so normal, Elody and Ally following Lindsey's lead, that I almost laugh. Just seeing that some things haven't changed is somehow reassuring. I don't move to join them, even though my muscles are cramped from sitting in the same position for so long and my head feels like it's full of cotton balls and paper weights. Instead, I stare into the fire - which is now barely glowing embers - and listen to the girl's breathing until it calms and I know their asleep.

My eyelids feel heavy and each time I blink it gets harder to peel them back open. I lean back and turn onto my side, when I can no longer keep myself upright. However, the conscious movement seems to wake my mind up again and it picks up right where it left off. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to fend off the desperation and guilt, but every time I close my eyes I see Sam's broken body on the pavement. I see her throwing herself at Juliet-

Juliet.

This whole time I never once though of Juliet. If I had stopped Sam from going after her, Juliet would be dead. A horrible, selfish part of me whispers that it should have been Juliet. Juliet, who had wanted to die. Juliet, who was the reason Sam was dead.

I stop the line of thoughts immediately. I don't want anyone to die. I don't want anyone to be dead. Maybe if I had gotten there sooner I could have saved both of them. Maybe if things were different...

But some things I don't want to be different.

I don't want to change the way I felt when I got that rose in Calculus, knowing it was from Sam. I don't want to change the way it felt to be next to her at school. I don't want to lose the feel of her lips against mine or the way her soft, sweet smell of her skin when she leaned into me. I don't want to forget the feel of her breath against my neck in the dark when she told me I was the best kiss she ever had.

I don't want my last memory of her to be of screeching, and headlights, and blood, and her pale body soaring through air.

Then I remember the calmness in her eyes. The overarching sense of purpose about her in every move she seemed to make. The way she looked at me in the last moment. Calm and almost...happy. The way she knew exactly where to find Juliet and when. How she didn't hesitate when she must have known too, that she would die. Anger towards her blazes up in me so unexpected that my fist clench at my side. How could she leave me after all that? How could she just change my world, kiss me and change me irrevocably? After all this time, why did the she have to notice me on the last day of her life?

I'm shaking again, but I clamp down on my thoughts, knowing they're headed into a place I can't face right now. No matter what, I'll never regret knowing Sam Kingston. I'll never forget the way kissing her felt like finding a piece of myself I didn't know was missing until it was back. I try to hold onto the feeling of completeness. Of soft skin and lips and kissing like it was as natural and easy as breathing. I imagine I'm back in the car with Sam, surrounded by darkness, the rain pattering against the hood. A world all to ourselves, a moment that's ours and ours alone.

Eventually I must fall asleep, since the doorbell and furious knocking wakes me up some time later. Pale, gray light is streaming through the windows, but I have no sense of time. I force myself up, letting the tangle of blankets fall off my shoulders as I rise. One of the girls moans, and they pull the blankets over there head, curling closer to each other as the incessant pounding continues. I stumble towards the door, having to brace myself against the wall and hold on to random furniture, since I can't seem to find any sense of balance.

The doorbell rings again as the knocking continues and I try to yell "I'm coming," but it comes out as a strained croak and I know whoever's on the other side can't hear me. I clear my throat, hoping I can find my voice as I pull open the front door.

I blink at the sight in front of me, I'm not really surprised, but I don't know what to say to any of them. Standing on my front porch are all the girl's parents, but I feel like I don't really see them. I'm completely detached from my body, watching everything from afar.

It takes a few seconds before I realize someone's talking to me and I force my lips to move, force the words past my the knot in my throat and over my swollen tongue.

"They're in the living room," I say, my voice sounding hollow and far away.

Whoever was talking stops and they all stare at me for a second, before pushing past me as I step aside gesturing towards the living room. I don't follow them. Instead, I stare out the front door, at the snow now coating the ground. The sun peaking over the trees and through the clouds making the world look shiny and unbroken. It all seems so wrong. How could the sun be shining and the world look the same after all that's happened?

I look over at the woods quickly, before slamming the door shut. I don't want to see. I walk as slowly as possible to the living room and stand against the wall, glad to be ignored. People are talking to me and I respond without hearing them. Elody comes up and hugs me briefly, just before everyone leaves.

Once everyone's gone the silence in the house presses in on me like it has physical weight. I wonder if my parents will come back when they hear, or if anyone will try to reach them to tell them. They were only away for the weekend so I could have this party anyway and since they aren't as social connected to the gossip as some of the other parents its possible they have no idea what's happened. I guess I should be the one to call them, but I can't bring myself to say the words out loud yet.

Suddenly, the weight of everything hits me all over again. Sam's dead. She's dead and she's not coming back ever. I'll never kiss her again. I'll never see her walking down the halls or sitting at the lunch with her friends, laughing. I'll never here the melodic sound of her voice again. The way her voice caresses my name like it's a musical note. Worst of all though, I'll never know what more could have happened between us.

I slide down the wall, barely breathing again, gasping and shaking. This is what real sadness feels like. My emotions shift from misery to anger in a second and back again. I'm mad at her for dying, mad at the world for taking her, mad that the day I had chance the with her was her last. This is what out of control feels like.

Suddenly, I can't sit still anymore. My hands are clenched into fists at my sides and I have the desperate urge to scream or break things. I walk into the large dining room and pick up one of the heavy, decorative chairs. I throw it and it only lands a few feet from where I stand. It doesn't feel good, but it doesn't feel bad either. I grab the next chair and throw it behind me with so much force that it hits the wall, probably leaving a hole. The dull sound as the chair crashes down is slightly more satisfying and at this point I can't stop.

I grab each of the chairs, one by one and throw them around the room, pulling them down as I storm past them. When I run out of chairs, I tear through the house, pulling down curtains, throwing and ripping pillows from the couch, breaking the mugs still in the living room. Throwing a vase a across the room, going into my bedroom and flipping the mattress off my bed, pulling clothes out of my closet and drawers. The anger and grief and guilt surging through my veins, turning me into a tornado, destroying everything in my path.

After I've made my way through most rooms in the house, panting and dripping with sweat, I sink down against the nearest wall to catch my breath. The sun is shining through the floor to ceiling windows and the brightness hurts my eyes. I'm in the living room, and I move to close the curtains, but when I look up I realize I've torn the curtains down. I reach over and grab a blanket off the floor, pulling it over my head to block out the light. I've never felt so exhausted in my whole life. I let myself fall onto my side, keeping the blanket over my head, pulling my knees up to my chest and finally let go. The first sobs strangles me as it erupts from somewhere deep inside me, but after that it's like a dam has burst. Everything come rushing to the surface and I'm sobbing and screaming and asking why and whispering her name over and over, until my voice it it loses meaning and the syllables blur together like watercolors. I still can't get myself to believe any of this is real, I can't get myself to believe that Sam's really dead. It's like my mind keeps rejecting the idea, even as I'm curled up on the floor, crying like the world is ending because that's what it feels like.


	2. First Day of School

**First Day of School**

My parents started home immediately after they heard. Apparently, they had tried to call, but I hadn't had my cell and the house phone had gotten disconnected sometime during the party. They came home to find the house destroyed and me curled up on the floor, with a blanket over my head, asleep. When my mom gently shook me awake, just the sight of her caused me to break down again. She wrapped her arms around me, and I was never more grateful for her presence than in that moment. Eventually, I was calm enough to get up off the floor and allow my parents to lead me to my room, which was still a mess, but the mattress had been placed back on the frame and new sheets and blankets laid over it.

I fell into my bed and instantly fell asleep, grateful for the soft surface and the exhaustion. For the rest of the weekend, I didn't leave my room. I only got out of bed to go to the bathroom and even that felt like too much effort. My mom came in to check on me every once in a while, usually to try to coax me to eat something. Everything tasted like chalk, but I forced down a few bites each time until my stomach clenched and I was sure I would throw up if I ate another bite.

I wasn't even aware that it was Monday until my mom came in and asked if I was going to school that day. She quickly explained how I didn't have to if I didn't feel up to it and I was about to tell her I definitely didn't feel like going, but at the last second I change my mind. I have the strangest desire to see what school will be like. Somehow I think everything will be different, that the time won't flow the same, that classes won't come and go. How can homework and tests be bigger than this?

The thought makes me want to back out, but I'm suddenly tired of sitting around. I want to do something. Maybe school will just be a good distraction. I pull myself out of bed and into the shower. Slowly getting ready even though I know I'm already running late. I grab my book bag and keys off the table, declining my mom's request to drive me to school, telling her I'm okay to drive. Also, I just want a way out if everything gets to be too much.

I feel almost numb on the drive to school, and I purposefully park in the upper lot so I have to walk. 0.22 miles. My heart clenches. I only know that number, because I heard Sam say it. I only heard Sam say it, because I've never been able to stay away from her, even after she became to cool for me.

I'm so consumed isn my own thoughts that I don't even register walking into the front doors of the school until the sound of hundreds of students talking knocks me back to reality. As I walk down the hall toward my first class, I notice how everyone turns quiet and stares and the whispering starts. I'm almost to my class when all the talking ceases. It seems like all the noise has been sucked out of the space like a vacuum. I turn around slowly, knowing why the noise has stopped, but needing to see for myself.

Lindsey is making her way down the hall, with Ally and Elody flanking her on either side, all of them wearing oversized sunglasses. No one speaks and no one breathes and for a few seconds the only sound in whole school is the sound of three pairs of heels clicking against the tile floor in sync. Then the whispering starts again, growing until it's a dull roar. I wonder if all the rules still apply.

The girls make it down the hall, heads held high and I expect them to pass by me without a second glance. That's what usually happens. That's the rule. But it's not what happens. Instead, they stop right in front of me and Lindsey gives me a half smile and brushes her hand over my shoulder, before the three of them turn away. I watch them walk away, the crowd parting to clear a path for the three of them. I can feel the tension in the air, weighing on everything while at the same time vibrating like electricity.

I turn to go into my class, but not before staring down the halls one last time. Part of me still expects to see Sam walking through the doors or down the hall with her friends. I push the thought from my head, though I'm already thinking coming to school may have been a bad idea.

During first period, the principal voice comes through the loudspeaker and tearfully announces Sam's death. Students who didn't know her immediately start crying and have to be escorted out to the grief counselor who is now available to all the students. My throat tightens and I clench my fist so tight my knuckles turn white and my fingernails draw blood, but I make it through. I don't want to go to the grief consular with all the people who didn't know her. I don't want to sit there with the people who just worshipped her for who they thought she was, who only want popularity and high school fame.

I can't concentrate on anything and find myself drawing aimlessly instead of taking notes. I'm not paying attention to what I'm drawing and have to hold back a gasp when I look down at my paper. I've started to sketch the same picture I drew for Sam to put with her rose on Cupid Day. I rip the paper out and tear it into pieces before balling it up and throwing it away. I interrupt class when I get up and people are staring, but they've been staring all day. I know I won't get in trouble. I'm sure if I just started tearing the classroom apart, I wouldn't get in trouble. Even though a lot of people don't know the full story of me and Sam, they know what happened at my party.

I'm walking to fourth period and I'm thinking about skipping out on the rest of the day. I can't concentrate anyway and I'm already tired of the whispers and the stares. Plus the rumors have started and if I have to listen to lies about Sam right now, I'm sure I'll lose it. I shove open the door to the classroom and it suddenly hits me where I'm at. Calculus. Most people have already taken their seats but they're all turned around staring at that empty desk by the door. Even Mr. Daimler can't take his eyes off it.

Sam's desk.

In movies and books I've never really understood why seeing an empty desk evoked such feeling. I understood that the person used to sit there and should have been sitting there if everything was right with the world, but I never truly understood what it meant. Hundreds of different people sit at the desk. Someone was probably sitting there just a few minutes ago and after this class leaves someone will sit there again. But that's not the point. The point is that Sam should be sitting there right now, like she's done everyday for the past school year. The lone emptiness of the desk is like a stark reminder that she's not coming back. She's not just sick or skipping. She'll never sit at that desk again. I'll never get to stare at the back of her head or her face in profile from my seat in the back of the room. That desk _is_ Sam's desk. And it's empty. It will always be empty.

The blood drains from my head so fast I get dizzy and have to lean against the doorframe to keep myself upright. I can't look away from the stupid desk any more than any one else can. A thousand images flash through my mind in quick succession. Sam as a little kid, grabbing my hand and running through my yard. Sam whispering in my ear. Sam kissing me. Sam's body flying though the air. Sam's blood on my hands.

Tears are falling down my face before I even know what's happening. I pull my eyes away from the empty desk and see that everyone's eyes have turned to me. My mind flashbacks to second grade, when I started crying during lunch because my grandpa had died and Patrick bullied me until Sam came to my rescue. Now Sam isn't here to save me. She isn't here to be my hero, because I wasn't able to be hers. But this time is different anyway. No one calls me names. In fact, a few other people in the class start tearing up and everyone looks broken and confused. Mr. Daimler says my name, but I ignore him and nearly run from the room and out the front doors.

I make it to my car, crank up the heat, and break down for what feels like the hundredth time since Sam's death.


	3. The Funeral

**The Funeral **

It's been almost a week since Sam died and I haven't been back to school since the disaster on Monday. Sam's funeral and memorial service is this afternoon and I've been dreading and anticipating it all day. I really don't want to go, but I my body hums with a strange curiosity. I'm sure that even if I tried to stay away, I couldn't. I need to be there, despite not wanting to think of Sam that way. It's still hard for me to believe she's dead even after six days. It still keeps hitting me at seemingly random times and each time it knocks the wind out of me like a physical blow. Sam's dead. She's not coming back. She's not going to graduate and she's not out there somewhere, studying abroad or living a life separate from mine. She's not living at all. I find it strange that my mind can't grasp that.

I fumble with the tie around my neck, my fingers feeling fat and uncoordinated. By the time I get the tie secured, it's crooked and in what appears to be an invincible knot below my collar. I start to run my hand through my hair in frustration, but stop when I remember that it took half an hour and a whole tube of gel to get it to semi-presentable. I stare into the full length mirror on the back of my bathroom door and barely recognize myself. My face is pale and drawn and I've lost so much weight in the past week that every plane of my face seems more prominent. My eyes looks empty and are slightly bloodshot from how much I've cried in the last few days. The crisp black dress pants and white button down shirt, along with the tie that I'll probably have to cut off, make me feel like a little kid playing dress up.

"Kent? Are you ready, sweetie?" my mom asks, knocking on the door and pushing it open before I respond.

I turn to look at her and am shocked when I notice how sad and exhausted she looks. I want to smile for her, but I can't bring myself too.

"Yeah, I'm ready."

I turn from the mirror, grab my cell phone from the bed and slide it into my pocket before heading towards my mother.

"You're tie isn't right," my mother says, laughing nervously as she works at the knot at my collar. Both my parents haven't been sure how to act around me since Sam died. I know they're worried about me, but every time I'm around them I feel like I'm making them uncomfortable. Though my mom has a tendency to be a bit overprotective, she's been good about giving me time to myself to process things.

"I told you a bow tie would have been better," I say, shrugging. I persuaded my mom to let me go without the suit jacket, but she was adamant about the tie and I didn't really have it in me to argue anymore.

"Well judging by this knot, I'm inclined to agree with you," my mother say, her eyes never leaving the mess I've made of the tie.

My dad yells from the foyer that we're going to be late if we don't get going now, so the tie fiasco is put on hold while we all hustle out to the car. We drive in silence and when we pass the stretch of road where Sam died, I shut my eyes and hold my breath, barely resisting the urge to pull my feet up on the seat like a child when driving by a cemetery. When I open my eyes, I catch my father's worried glance at me in the rearview mirror. I turn away to stare out the window and am grateful when he doesn't speak.

The ride to the church seems too short and when the car is parked, I suddenly find myself too terrified to move. I watch dozens of other people weaving their way to the church entrance. I recognize some of the students in my class as well as a few teachers. There's an astonishing number of people here and I know that most of them didn't know Sam at all. I expect to feel anger towards them, but I don't. Death may be the only thing that truly brings people together, even if it's only for a short time. Nothing in life is as permanent.

A child yelling brings me back to the moment and I realize I haven't even unbuckled my seatbelt. I've just been staring wide-eyed at the church, frozen like a statue. I move mechanically to get out of the car, feeling detached from my body, like everything is happening to someone else. I stand stock still while my mother fusses with my tie again until it's right. Once she turns away, I loosen it immediately. It feels like it's strangling me.

I take a deep breath as we walk through the church doors. A blast of cold air conditioning swirls around me causing an involuntary chill to creep up my spine. There's people milling about everywhere, chatting quietly in groups or sitting against the wall quietly keeping to themselves. I look for Lindsey, knowing Elody and Ally will be with her, but I don't seem them in the reception area. They're either not here yet or they're in a different room. My mom starts talking to someone and hands off the large bouquet of flowers to a man in a suit. Even though the space is large, I feel claustrophobic and I can't stop fidgeting so I leave my parents to wander around. I pass a table with pictures of Sam on it and come to a stop to stare down at it.

I can tell that some of the pictures are professionally done, probably her senior pictures. She looks so happy and alive in each one. Her smile brilliant and beautiful. There's multiple prints of each picture and there's a sign that instructs people to feel free take one. I run my hands over the glossy photos before scooping up one of each print. I know that I'm probably only supposed to take one total not one of each, but I can't help myself. No one around me says anything - not that I would listen if they did - so I take what I want before walking away.

I walk through the next door and that when I see it. The coffin. My heart stops and my hands feel clammy. The casket is closed and at first I feel a rush of relief. I won't have to see her body. But then I feel a sudden surge of anger. I won't even get to see her one last time. Just as quickly as the anger comes it fades, replaced by a strange hopeful feeling. What if she's not in there at all?

I shake my head, closing my eyes tight as I exhale slowly through my nose. My emotions are all over the place and my mind is so desperate for this all to not be real that I feel like I'm going crazy. Strangely though, I don't feel like crying. All I feel is bumps into me from behind and I realize that I've stopped in the doorway.

"Sorry," they mutter, before pushing past me into the room.

I look around for anyone familiar in an attempt to delay the inevitable, but I know anyone in the room well enough to feel comfortable approaching them. I know I can't avoid the inevitable, so I slowly walk towards the coffin. It's surrounded by flowers and cards and there's a framed picture of Sam sitting on top of it. I expect to feel something, but I don't. It all feels so impersonal. Bright store bought flowers, a glossy wooden box, and a framed picture of a familiar girl.

I turn away and finally spot Lindsey just as she enters the room with Ally and Elody. Their arms are interlocked with Lindsey standing tall in the center, her head held high like she's daring anyone to think she's not okay. I want to approach them, but it's like there's some force field keeping everyone at bay. Instead, I watch them as they make their way though the room, people parting to let them pass. They walk right up to the casket, standing right next to me, but I can tell they don't even know I'm there. They huddle a little closer to each other, their eyes looking far away as they take everything in. After a minute, they turn in unison, almost bumping into me.

"Oh. Hey, Kent," Lindsey says, and all three of their smiles look genuine.

"Hey," I reply, genuinely smiling for the first time since that horrible day.

**"**Come sit with us?" Elody asks, gesturing to the church pews.

I nod and follow them to a pew a few rows from the front. We sit down and for a few minutes no one speaks and we watch as people file past Sam's coffins. No one acknowledges us or even seems to look our way and I have the unnerving feeling that we are the ghosts here, watching our own funerals. Before I have a chance to dwell on the thought, Elody thankfully breaks the silence.

"Why are you wearing a tie instead of a bow tie?" she asks, leaning across Lindsey and Ally to look at me.

The fact that that's the question she asks and the details she dwelling on at a time like this makes me laugh and a few people turn to stare at me. There's faces slightly appalled and disgusted at my outburst. I don't care, because they don't understand. Plus, it feels good to laugh again.

"My mom insisted I wear a tie. She said the bow ties make me look like an old man."

They all laugh and I start laughing with them, even though it's not that funny. We probably look like were crazy, but the release of some of the tension feels like floating and after falling for six days straight I'm grateful for the small seconds of reprieve.

"Remember that time I had us all go out and buy ties, so we could practice tying them?" Lindsey asks, after we've calmed down a bit.

"Yeah! You said that every girl needed to know how a tie worked, so when we went to prom we could help out our dates," Ally chimes in and Elody nods along, still laughing.

"Why do girls need to know how to tie a tie?" I ask, holding onto my smile, knowing once this strange moment ends I'll lose it again.

Lindsey snorts, "Well, girls are always fixing guys ties in movies, so I figured it was something we should all learn."

I laugh at that, harder than necessarily warranted and it all feels a little hysterical, but I don't want it to stop.

"None of us could ever figure it out," Ally says.

"We just kept tying them in knots and it looked horrible," Lindsey adds.

"The only one who even came close to getting it right was-" Elody starts, but trails off suddenly and we all know what she was about to say. Instantly, our laughter dies and a tense sadness takes it place.

"...Sam," Lindsey finishes in a whisper, while we all stare at the ground unable to meet each others eyes. I try to stop my mind from spiraling again, but the pictures of Sam are still in my hand and even though I turn them over, her face is burned in my mind. I think of earlier, when I could get my tie right. I imagine Sam standing next to me, laughing at the mess I've made of it. Her thin hands working through the knot and securing it around my neck, her fingers brushing lightly against the exposed skin above my shirt.

Then the image disappears and I'm back in the car with her on the last day of her life. Her lips against mine, her whisper in my ear, the warmth of her body pressed against mine. Then her body flying through the air, pale skin against a dark stain on dark pavement. Flashing lights and a white sheet.

_Sam._

Then I realize something I wish I didn't. We spoke more in that night than we had in years, but it's already getting harder for me to recall the exact tones of her voice. I can't exactly recall the sweet scent of her skin when she was next to me. All these things seemed so clear just a few days ago and I'm suddenly terrified of my own faulty memory. What if I eventually can't even recall the exact way her face looked? Why are the memories of her death still so clear and why is it that I feel those memories will never fade? How is it fair that I can forget her smell, her voice, her _face_, but still remember watching her die like a continuous instant replay?

I open my eyes, though I hadn't even noticed I had closed them, and frantically flip through the pictures in my hand. I need to see her face. I need to know I'm still remembering her correctly. I move through the pictures so fast at first that they all seem to blur together and I have to force myself to slow down and take in the details. Each of the pictures is Sam, beautiful and happy, but they aren't the Sam I know. These pictures are all posed and I want the Sam that was sitting in my car, staring out the window. The Sam who was laughing and soaking wet from running in from the rain. The Sam who smiled at me in the hallway after I gave her the rose. I even want the Sam who I watched from afar for so many years. Beautiful and Unattainable and Vulnerable. I want the Sam that I kissed in my car, the Sam that I kissed on her porch.

Wait, her porch?

The first time I kissed her was in the car, I haven't even been to her house in years. Why does the memory seem so real then? Suddenly, a few other disjointed events flash though my mind. Sam at my party yelling that I didn't know her. Sam throwing my rose away. Sam wearing an atrociously revealing outfit and flirting with Mr. Daimler. Sam coming to my party...again and again and again. Maybe I really am going crazy.

I don't realize that I've tightened my hands into fist and my knuckles are white around bent pictures. My chest feels tight and it's hard to breath, but my eyes are dry. I don't feel like I'm about to cry, but I'm sure I'm just seconds away from screaming.

"_Kent!_" Lindsey voice is sharp, but I can tell it's not with concern. She reaches over and lays a hand on my fist, squeezing slightly until I release some of the tension. I lean my head back and take slow even breaths, trying to get my breathing under control again.

"Now is not the time for falling apart," Lindsey starts. "This is a funeral, it's not for mourning."

I can hear the undercurrent of bitter amusement in her voice and I glance over at her. She gives me a bitter half-smile, before sliding on a pair of dark sunglasses, obscuring her eyes. Ally and Elody follow suit and I realize they all brought the sunglasses so no one could see the emotions on their faces. I'm struck by how right Lindsey is when she says a funeral is not for mourning. A funeral is for the public and I can feel the undercurrent of nervous anticipation under the somber disbelief and sadness. Everyone's watching each other and glancing around out of the corners of their eyes. Waiting to to see who will break down, looking to see whose crying, part of them wanting to watch a scene while worried something will happen at that same time. It all seems so shallow and wrong, but it doesn't change that being here and having this funeral feels right. It's expected. It's traditional. It's the only way we all can find a sense of closure and goodbye, even though it doesn't fix anything.

Music starts and I realize that people have filed in and are sitting next to me, so I can't escape. Part of me wants to stand in the back, so that if it's all too much I can step out, but being next to the girls feels all right too. There the only one's who even come close to understanding what I'm going rest church is packed, with every seat taken and people standing against the wall in the back. Half of the people are Sam's family and the other half are students and teachers from school. A preacher starts in with bible verses and I let my mind wander, willing the whole thing to be over.

The funeral goes as anyone would expect it too. A lot of people are crying or tearing up. Sam's mom is crying throughout the whole service and can't get through her whole eulogy to Sam, which is taken over by her father. A few more people stand up and speak about how amazing Sam was and even though I agree with them I find it hard to listen to her life recounted through strangers and how sad it is that she died so young and tragically. The girls stand at the front of the room briefly, still clinging to each other and still wearing sunglasses, to briefly mention how great a friend Sam was and to tell a story about Sam and them. I can tell they all want to say more, but they can't without breaking down and Lindsey won't allow that, so they stop and come back to their seats to watch the rest.

When we all stand to file past the Sam's casket, I separate from the girls and head toward the back of the line, needing time to prepare and collect myself. I want to think of the perfect last thing to say to Sam, something simple that expresses everything I felt about her and how I feel now. I'm trying to think of something, but my mind goes blank and in no time at all I'm almost right next to her casket. I panic a little, not because of the proximity of the coffin, but from the sheer fact that I can't think of anything and this feels like the last goodbye.

When it's mine turn to file past, the people behind me keep a respectable distance and I just stand, eyes wide staring at the coffin with Sam's picture a top it. The room has been filled with low murmuring the whole time, but somehow they seem louder now and I feel like they're talking about me. _Look at that boy, he doesn't even know what to do._ I'm sure it's just my imagination, but it feels like they're all sneering at me. I make a quick decision and step a little closer to the coffin, placing my right hand on top of it, closing my eyes and bowing my head slightly. Somehow it seems right and thats when the words come to me.

"I love you."

The words are barely a whisper mumbled through barely moving lips, but I feel the rightness of them immediately. Love. Not loved. Not past tense.

Love.

I open my eyes and step away, letting another person come take my place as I walk through the line of Sam's family members. I can't look them in the eyes. Sam's father pulls me into a quick hug, which surprises me so much that I don't even have a chance to respond before he's pulling away.

"If you're worried about it, I want you to know that we don't blame you at all, Kent."

A lump rises in my throat. I did wonder if they blamed me. Even though I didn't do anything directly, Sam did die at my party and on my street. I did wonder if they resented me for her being there. If she hadn't been there, then she might still be alive. Hearing her father say they didn't blame me was a huge relief that I didn't even know I needed.

"Thank you...and I'm sorry," I say quickly, keeping my head down and moving away quickly.

I'm relieved when another person distracts him with their condolences so I don't have to say anything else. However, the next person is Sam's mother and my hearts stops for a second when I accidentally meet her eyes. I look away quickly and stand in front of her.

"I'm sorry..." I say, but the words sound weak and hollow. There isn't any comfort to be found in condolences, but I don't know what else to say. I notice Sam's little sister, Izzy, clinging to her mother's leg, sobbing and it breaks my heart.

"Oh, Kent..." Sam's mom sighs, pulling me into a hug. I return the gesture just as she whispers in my ear, "Thank you for being such a great friend to Sam."

At that moment I realize that she probably has no idea what went on with us that day. She probably doesn't even know that until the last day of her life Sam had made it a point to ignore me for years. I don't care about that part though, because she doesn't even know that Sam and I were more than just friends. But, I just nod and say the right mechanically response and walk away. If she ever asks, I'll tell her the truth. Right now, she has enough to deal with and I'm not even sure if I can talk about it with anyone. I haven't even told my parents the full story, but I'm sure with what I gave them they figured out the rest.

I'm finally out of the line and back into the foyer area of the church. A few people, whom I'm assuming are part of Sam's family, are standing around probably waiting to drive to the cemetery which is going to be private and for the family only. I'm grateful I don't have to watch them bury her, because the moment I step outside all the tension I've been carrying throughout the funeral seems to unwind all at once and my whole body seems to sag. Everything is just too much to process right now. My mind feels like it's just given up. I'm suddenly so incredibly exhausted I feel like I could lay down on the sidewalk and fall asleep immediately.

"Kent!"

I recognize my mom's voice and turn around just as she approaches me and pulls me into a hug. I kind of just want space, but I hug her back anyway. Sam's death has made me appreciate everything and everyone more. If this is my last day, I don't want to have any regrets.

"How are you doing?" my mom asks.

"I'm okay," I say, and it's the truth. I can't feel anything other than the mind-numbing exhaustion. Though I did tear up a few times during the service, I made it through without crying. Even if I did wish I had brought sunglasses a few times, I made it through better than I could have hoped.

"We were thinking about heading over to the reception hall and helping set up so the family has less to do. Is that okay? I promise we won't stay long if you don't want too, I just want to talk to let Sam's parents know they can call us if they need anything."

"Yeah, that's fine," I reply, though I really just want to go home and sleep.

My mom smiles just a little too brightly at me, as we all head to the car. I lean my head against the window and have to fight to keep my eyes open. I tell myself I've gotten through the hard part, which was the funeral. Now there's only one more part to go and then I can go home, sleep, and dream about Sam. I relax thinking I can just hang out in the shadows at the reception until my parents are ready to leave. Easy. No problem.

If only I knew the disaster waiting for me when I got there, I might not have been so casual in my dismissal of it.


	4. The Dream

**The Dream**

_"Kent," someone says, poking me in the shoulder. "Kent, wake up. You have to drive me home." _

_I groan and throw my arm over my head, trying to block out the sound of the girl's voice. I don't know why I feel so tired; even opening my eyes feels impossible. _

_The person laughs and for some reason my heart constricts painfully in my chest. The sound is beautiful, but it hurts me. I don't know why. _

_"Kent! I really need to get home. My parent's will worry." _

_The voice is so familiar, the sound flowing through me like it's always been a part of me, wrapping itself around me like a melody to my favorite song. Still...something about it makes me want to cry. I peel my eyes open and come face to face with Sam. But's its not really her. I fell asleep at my desk on top of my sketch pad again. The picture's not quite finished, but the image is a black and white sketch of her mid laugh, her hair cascading around her face and down her shoulders. I run my fingers over it, touching it with a reverence I can't quite comprehend. However, my fingers cause the lines to smudge and I stare at it in vexation for a few moments before fumbling around for my eraser and pencils so I can correct the error. _

_"Hey! Are you even listening to me? And why do you need a picture when you've got the real thing right in front of you?" Even though she sounds indignant, she keeps her voice teasing._

_I whip around in my chair, banging my knee on the edge of the desk in the process. "Ow," I say, but I barely feel the pain. _

_That's when I see Sam, sitting on my bed, smiling at me. I can't form any words so I just stare. She's so beautiful, but I can't shake the feeling that somethings off. _

_"Are you alright?" she asks, tilting her head to the side just a bit causing more hair to fall over her shoulder. _

_"You're here," is the only thing I manage to say, surprising myself._

_"Of course I'm here, silly. Just like I've been here every day this week," she replies and I notice how her eyebrows pull together a little bit with concern. "Are you sure you're okay? Maybe the stress from applying to that art school really has made you lose your mind." _

_"Art school?" _

_"Kent, come on it's not funny," Sam says, but she laughs and I smile. Her laughter is the most amazing sound I've ever heard. _

_She stands up and comes over to me, leaning over me in my desk chair. Her face is inches from mind and I can smell the subtle hint of her perfume and the unique smell of her skin. I close my eyes and then immediately open them again, I don't know why but I don't want to miss anything. _

_"You really need to take me home though, I can't be late for curfew again or my parents will ground me," she says, her breath tickling my skin her lips inches from mine. _

_"If you had to leave so soon, why did you let me fall asleep?" I ask not wanting to end the moment, but she pulls back and stands up straight. _

_"You've looked so exhausted lately and I know you're stressed over hearing from that art school - even though you'll definitely get in - so I thought I'd let you sleep for a bit. Besides, I haven't been getting much studying done on these "study" dates and I had some stuff to catch up on." _

_Suddenly, everything starts to make sense. A couple weeks ago I spent nearly all my time compiling a portfolio to send to art schools all over the country. Well, almost all over the country, mostly anywhere that was close to a school that Sam had applied too. Of course Sam's here now, because Sam's my girlfriend and we've been having these "study" dates for weeks. I blame the strange lapse of memory on my mind, fuzzy from sleep and keep my eyes locked on Sam. _

_"Oh, you mean I haven't been an effective study partner?" I say, standing and wrapping my arm around her waist, pulling her to me. _

_"I believe you may be the worst study partner ever, Kent McFuller." _

_"Well, I think I can remedy that, Ms. Kingston." _

_Our lips are inches apart and she's pressed so close to me that I can feel the warmth radiating from her body into mine. I tangle my free hand into her hair and press my lips hard against hers. I stifle a groan as her body responds to mine, her lips part and the kiss deepens as she leans into me. She pulls away first. _

_"I really do need to get home..." she starts, her voice trailing off uncertainly, desire lighting up her eyes. _

_"Studying is going to run a little late tonight, there's a test tomorrow," I say, lightly kissing along her neck and jawline. _

_She shivers and I tighten my grip around her. "Tomorrow's sunday," she says, her voice breathy. _

_"It doesn't matter," I say, and unable to wait anymore, I kiss her on the lips again closing my eyes because I can't help it. _

_She doesn't protest and I feel her hands run up my back and then tangle in my hair. Her body is warm against mine, the feel of her drowning all my senses until it's nothing but her and the way she make's me feel exist in the world. I tighten my arm around her again, but there's no room for her to get any closer. I wish there was nothing between at all between us. Even the thin layers of our clothes seem like too much. _

_The kiss is all consuming, but something starts to break through the haze. Something I can't understand and though my mind keeps fumbling to grasp it, something else is desperately trying to keep it hidden. A type of desperation starts to fill me and I kiss Sam harder, needing to feel her against me, but there's nothing sexual about the feeling. It's more of a feeling that at any moment, Sam will disappear and I'll regret not holding her tight enough to save her. My kisses start to get frantic and I can sense her shock at the change, but she doesn't pull away. I run my hand up her back, surprised when my hand doesn't slide but meets resistance from the fabric. I pull away slightly, startled. _

_"Why are you clothes so wet?" I ask, noticing now that she's completely drenched, her clothes are clinging to her slim frame and her hair is hanging in thick, damp curls around her face. She looks pale and I can feel her shivering with cold. I can't make sense of it, but I try to warm her with my body heat. _

_"It was raining pretty bad outside," Sam replies. I wait for her to elaborate, but she doesn't. Instead, she presses her lips to mine with such force that I almost stumble. I return her kiss instantly, feeling the cold water from her clothes soaking my front and chilling skin. I ignore the sensation as a feeling of terror starts to constrict my chest. Sam's still in my arms, but I feel like she's becoming more fragile each second. Like I can't feel her against, like she's not really solid and is fading against me until I'll only be grasping at air. Her body is so cold against mine that I've started shivering, but I don't stop kissing her. Instead, I back up so I'm leaning against my desk, letting her lean farther into me. _

_"Sam, I need you," I whisper between kisses. "I love you. Promise you won't ever leave."_

_"I don't have much time, Kent," Sam replies, and the desperation and terror starts to consume me. Her voice sounds strange. _

_"What are you talking about?" I ask, breaking the kiss and opening my eyes. _

_I bite back a gasp when I see Sam's face. She's incredibly pale and her eyes looks to big for her face which seems a bit sunken in, making her cheeks look like hollows. _

_"Are you okay? Maybe you should just get dry and rest," I say, the words sounding strained and weak. My hearts beating so fast it's making me dizzy. _

_Sam just smiles and I see a thin trickle of red slide from the corner of her mouth down her chin. Her body feels like ice against mine. "It's okay, Kent. It was meant to be this way." _

_"What way? Sam, something isn't right here. We've got to fix this!" I'm practically shouting now and I vaguely notice that even though my arms are around her I can't feel her in my arms. _

_"There is not fixing this," Sam replies and this time her voice sound hollow and it sends chills throughout my body. I feel something warm running over my hands against Sam's back and against the ice of her body, it's so strange I jerk my hands away from her. When I pull my hands from behind her back I see there covered in thick dark blood. For a moment, I can't comprehend anything and then I jerk my head up and back to Sam whose standing a few feet away from me. _

_Blood soaks her shirt and drips down to the floor below her. Her hair is matted with it and a thin red lines run from the corners of her mouth. I stare in horror, unable to do anything. That's when the truth strikes me with all the force of a Mack truck. Sam's dead. _

_"No!" I shout, reaching for her. I can still save her, she's here now. I was just kissing her, I felt her in my arms. I can stop this. I can be her hero. _

_Instead, I trip. I lunge for her and I trip over nothing, falling flat on my face into the carpet of my bedroom floor, my hand grasping only air. I'm stunned for only a moment, before I regain my senses and scramble to my hands and knees. My head whips around the room so fast that I can barely make out anything, but I know one thing for sure. Sam's not here. There's not blood on the floor and my clothes aren't wet from holding her against me. All that in front of me is my sketchbook, open to the same black and white drawing of Sam. However, when I pull the sketchbook to me the picture doesn't look the same. The lines are smeared and blurred like it was left out in the rain and only small bits are clear and distinguishable. A few strand of hair, part of an eye, the curve of a jaw. I frantically scramble upwards, nearly knocking my desk into the wall with the force of slamming into it. I need to find my pencils. I'm overwhelmed with the need to correct the picture immediately. _

_I forage through all the drawers, yanking them open and slamming them shut when I can't find what I'm looking for. Eventually, I find a pencil buried in the back of a drawer and I desperately clasp it, nearly breaking the point when I slam it against the page. However, once I'm ready to start drawing my mind goes blank. I hold the pencil against the page, my arm shaking, but my hand steady. The picture was so clear in my mind before. Sam's face was so clear in my mind just a second ago. Why can't I draw her again? Why can't I remember the details of her face? _

_I start to panic and desperately try to sketch the outline of her face. Even using the blurred lines on the page, it doesn't look right. I can't remember Sam's face. Suddenly, bright lights blind me, causing me to drop the pencil and hold my hand up in an attempt to protect my eyes. The sound of car horns blaring fills breaks the silence and I flinch at the sudden, blaring noise. Then, everything goes dark and a hear a faint whisper under the noise, _"It's not her fault." _Sam's voice. I try to hold on to it, to pinpoint where it is in all the chaos, but I can't. I feel myself slipping farther away each second._

I open my eyes.

The car bounces and swerves causing my head to slam into the window, pulling me into alertness. Horns blare around us for a second longer before silencing and I can't figure out what's going on.

"Some people have no respect," my dad mutters, and I realize we're pulling into the parking lot of the reception hall which already has a good number of cars in it despite us being an hour early.

My dad catches my eyes in the rearview mirror, "Sorry, Kent. I didn't mean to wake you like that. I underestimated the car's turning radius in comparison to the curb."

I almost smile at that, my dad's brilliant in almost everything he does, but when it comes to judging space and distance he's horrible. Sometime's I'm surprised he even got a license.

"It's okay," I say, absentmindedly rubbing my head where a small bump has formed from hitting it against the window.

"Did you hit your head?" my mom asks, turning in her seat to glance back at me.

"I'm fine," I say again, looking away from her and back out the window. I can't help that the obvious concern and sympathy in her eyes is starting to wear on my nerves. I know she means well, but it's getting hard to take the pity and the being looked at like I'm so fragile the smallest pressure will break me.

As my dad searches for a parking space that he can get into without side-swiping another car, I think back on the dream. It's strange how it dances at the edge of my conscious, so clear, but so indistinct at the same time. It's already slipping away, and I close my eyes again, trying to relive the good parts so I won't forget them. Sam's face. I saw Sam's face again. I heard her voice and her laugh like she was right next to me again. I try to recapture the feeling of my hands in her hair and my lips on hers but it gets harder and harder as the seconds tick by. Instead, my brain dredges up the end of the dream. Sam's body cold and dripping wet with rain. Sam's hollow voice and the blood on on my hands, soaking through her clothes. Trying to redraw her portrait and not remembering all of her face.

I'm trying to hold onto the dream like it's a memory, but it's not. None of it was real, the good and the bad, but it still hurts. I almost wish I didn't have it. It feels like losing Sam all over again, but not in the same way I've been dealing with all week. This is much worse. I had her right there in front of me. I was holding her. _Holding_ her. She was talking about colleges and the future like she had one. It feels like I failed her again. Once again, I wasn't good enough to be her hero. I wasn't enough to save her even in my own dreams. I expect the sadness to settle in, but instead all I feel is a bone deep emptiness. Like a part of me has been ripped away. I let my body sag against the doorframe, the moment bringing a thought to the forefront of my mind.

I'll never be the same.

"Kent, we're about to head in," my mother says, and I open my eyes.

"Okay," I reply, my voice sounding empty to my ears. I pull myself up, restringing each of my limbs one by one and open the car door. I step out into the annoyingly bright sunshine, that seems so out of place compared to the somber mood in my mind and face the building. This is it. Just one more thing to get through, before I can go back home and sort through every emotion and detail without being scrutinized. Or maybe I'll just sleep.

I take a deep breath, brace myself, and follow my parents up to the entrance of the building.


End file.
